


Marigold Smoke

by viridix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 80’sAU, :), Gency, Kinda, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Other, Overwatch - Freeform, Reaper76 - Freeform, StrangerThingsAU, VideoGame, firstpost, highschoolAU, idk - Freeform, r76
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridix/pseuds/viridix
Summary: Jack. A brilliant and anxious 14-year-old sophomore. And Gabriel. A headstrong paranormal foster kid. What could go wrong when these two unlikely friends bump into each other? They say that opposites attract... right?
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Bullies

Chapter One - Bullies

Jack was going to need stitches.

Like seven or eight at the least.

The first thing he felt when he was forcefully shoved in the back and knocked down by the popular Max Campbell was, surprisingly, nothing. No feelings shot through his head like a speeding train like they normally did, no pain screamed across his body. Nothing. But he knew, by the dull vibrating in his jaw, that he’d hit his mouth against the metal lockers.

And he’d hit his mouth _hard_.

But for some reason, he couldn’t feel it. In fact, he couldn’t feel his face.

He snapped quickly to his senses when a girl’s high-pitched shriek sliced through the notoriously silent atmosphere of Herron Highschool’s empty 400-wing hallway. Jack slowly peeled his shaking body off the cold, hard tile, grimacing from his sore limbs. The dirt speckled floor beneath his hands, and now throbbing head was splattered red. It was as if someone had spilled paint.

Dark, crimson, blood-looking paint.

“Ooooo” a condescending voice taunted near Jack’s right ear, which was, evidently, still ringing. “That looks pretty bad.” Max Campbell sneered at Jack behind the dark sunglasses plastered to his greasy forehead.

A girl with dark, long, wavy brown hair stood behind Max, her emerald eyes wide with worry. “Max, you shouldn’t have done that.” She moaned, shaking Max’s built shoulders. “We’re gonna be in some serious trouble.” She nervously tossed her long hair behind her shoulder.

Max just laughed, tilting his head back, exaggerating the moment. His dark hair flipped over his eyebrows as he faced Jack once again.

Jack was shuddering, his lip throbbed violently. He glared up at Max and his basic, cheerleader sidekick, He could run away, but his body wouldn’t let him. His body was practically superglued to the dirty floor.

“Jess, it’s fine,” Max grinned, shrugging the girl’s hands off his shoulders. “It was fun, anyway.”

The girl looked down at Jack’s lean, quivering form. Her eyes weren’t sympathetic at all, but those freakishly green orbs seemed anxious. Worried. Not for Jack, though. Probably for her own school-wide reputation. No one would like it if the popular, bratty upperclassmen kids were found sneering above a hurt lowerclassmen.

“Max, let’s get out of here.” Another girl said, nonchalantly, from across the hall. She was leaning against the silver lockers, her arms casually crossed. She glanced at Jack apathetically as she sauntered her way towards Max and Jess.

Max sighed.

The girl blew her bleach blonde bangs out of her face and she adjusted her vintage-looking round glasses as she stated, “We don’t want to get in trouble now, do we?”

“Yes, I agree with Noa, Max. Let’s _go_.” Jess said, tugging at the strings on Max’s maroon Indiana Hoosiers hoodie.

“Alright fine.” Max snickered, giving Jack a goodbye kick before standing and strutting down the hallway, the two girls following close behind.

“Have fun explaining that mess, Jackie.” Max jeered triumphantly behind him, his voice echoing through the deserted hallway, “No one will believe you!”

Assholes.

But in some way, he was right. Max was the star of the school. The stereotypical bully jock, but a kindhearted sweetie to the teachers. They all loved him. None of them would expect Max to suddenly be reported for beating up another kid. No one knew who Jack was, anyway. He was just another floater, making his way through the high school ocean.

Jack pushed himself up to a standing position. “What the hell.” He grumbled through gritted teeth.

Now he could feel where his lip had been slammed against a locker. And boy, did it _hurt_.

He tentatively applied pressure to the sore spot, instantly regretting it. Pain shot through his jaw and his lip like a bolt of lightning. Jack let out a timid squeak of pain. His mouth felt worse than after he’d had his wisdom teeth removed. That wasn’t a good sign.

Jack hurriedly rushed back to where Max had tossed his backpack, slinging it over a sore shoulder. He limped to the men’s room just as the bell signaling the passing period rang.

He stumbled into the restroom, slamming the door open with such force, that he almost fell over. Jack collapsed onto one of the four sinks attached to the wall, his bloody fingers staining the rim of the sink.

He looked at himself in one of the mirrors and groaned. His bright blonde hair was a tangled, matted mess and his lower lip looked terrible. It was turning purple, and swelling up at a surprisingly fast rate. _Oh_. And also, there was a cut, maybe four or five inches, that stretched from his cheek, through his lip, and his chin. It looked like someone had cut him with a knife.

He turned on the faucet. Ice cold water shot out of it, stinging his palms on contact. He washed his own blood off his hands and cupped them splashing the ice-cold water on his face. It stung his cut, making Jack’s eyes water. His face was already flushed, so crying wouldn’t be as embarrassing. He yanked out a paper towel from the dispenser to the left of the sink, and held it out under the faucet, soaking it. Where the water hit the paper, it’s brown color got darker. Jack’s tears were added to this mix.

He dabbed the paper towel against his throbbing lip, water dripping onto the sink, down his trembling chin, and onto his navy blue polo. He winced every time the paper came in gentle contact with his lip, tears streaming down his freckled face, his grey-blue eyes were shut tight.

Without warning, the restroom door was opened, and another boy walked in.

“Jack?!” he gasped.

“Vincent?!” Jack yelped, his voice cracking. From the mercy of his swollen lip, his words slurred together and it ended up sounding more like ‘In-ceh?!’.

Vincent was Jack’s ex-boyfriend. They broke up when Jack found out that Vincent was only dating him on a dare. They had a fight, but ended up making up, and were now frenemies. Which was better than nothing.

“What the hell happened?” Vincent’s almond-shaped brown eyes were wide with terror as he stared at Jack’s messed up lip. His hands were in his dark umber hair, pushing it backward anxiously.

“Come on.” Vincent suddenly grabbed Jack’s backpack strap and pulled him out the restroom door, and into the bustling hallway. The wet paper towel was thrown out of Jack’s hand, landing in the trash can.

_Kobe_. Jack thought, trying to mentally lighten the mood as Vincent basically dragged him down the hallway at sonic velocity. Jack could barely keep up with the kid. No wonder Vincent was the school track star.

Everyone’s eyes were instantly drawn to Jack’s face, and whispers were exchanged by mouths sheltered by cupped hands. No doubt rumors were already starting to spell themselves out.

The tardy bell rang, and Vincent stopped abruptly, causing Jack to stumble forward in front of Vincent. “Can you make it to the nurse by yourself?” Vincent asked, timidly. He rubbed his hands together, nervously. “I’m late for class.”

Jack nodded, sparing the pain speaking brought upon his lip.

“Thanks, man.” Vincent offered him a weak smile and took off the opposite way, sprinting.

Jack sighed and trudged on until he was face to face with the closed door of the nurse’s office. Jack slowly nudged open the door.

The nurse spun around in her chair, “What is it this ti-” She gasped. “Oh my goodness. Son, what happened?”

Jack didn’t respond. He couldn’t. It hurt his lip too much, and no one would understand him, anyways.

The nurse seemed to take the hint. She turned around and opened a minifridge behind her desk, pulling something out of it. “Well here,” she muttered, holding out a blue ice pack. Jack took it. “At least put this on your lip to stop the swelling. Let me call your parents.” She hastily snagged the phone off its station and punched in the 7 numbers of Jack’s dad’s phone number. She already knew his number. Jack visited the nurse’s quite frequently.

Jack plopped down on one of the five stationary gurneys in her office, the medical paper crinkling as he shifted his weight. He gingerly placed the ice pack on the right side of his face where his lip was swollen from the cut.

“Yes, hello? Mr. Morrison, sir?” the nurse addressed Jack’s father. She held the phone up with both hands. “Your son needs to be picked up and taken to a hospital immediately, he cut the right side of his bottom lip open.”

A pause.

“Yes, sir. Could you please come to pick Jack up?” She said in a rushed tone, tucking a strand of amber hair behind her ear.

Another pause.

The nurse looked up from the phone and nodded at Jack’s backpack. He unshouldered it and placed it on the floor.

“Thank you, Mr. Morrison, sir. Goodbye.” She pressed a button to hang up with her long hot pink acrylic nails. This reminded Jack of when he’d painted his nails a while back. This earned him odd looks from his parents and his older sister, who he’d stolen the nail polish from.

“Well, son.” the nurse finally said, getting up and patting Jack on the shoulder. “Your father is on his way to pick you up. How do you feel?”

Jack gave her a thumbs up and took the gauze pads from her outstretched hand.

“Atta boy.” she smiled weakly.

* * *

Jack had to wait four hours after he had gotten his stitches done for his mother. His father had picked him up from school and stayed through to monitor the procedure, but had to leave right after to go back to work. Jack was glad. His dad kept giving him the most disgusted looks. His mother was the one coming to get him.

There was a knock on the hospital room door, and Jack’s mother let herself in.

“_Oh_, Jack,” she exclaimed, hugging him tightly and planting a wet mom-kiss on his forehead. Her face was creased with worry. “Oh my goodness, my baby. What happened? Did someone hurt you? Are you ok? Who-”

“Yeah, I’m ok.” Jack managed to pronounce. “It’s really sore though.”

“I bet,” she said, frowning down at Jack’s stitched up lip. “That’s gonna leave a scar.” She ran a hand down her face before re-tying her wavy blonde hair up into a bun. She turned to the nurse and started talking to her about the procedure.

Jack, who was holding the medical bill, had nothing better to do. So he read the bill.

$927.

_For 8 goddamn stitches._

Jack’s stomach twisted with guilt. He knew his family was struggling with money. Last year’s corn harvest hadn’t gone the way it was supposed to. The crops near the woods were all rotten and dead, and there were a _lot_ of corn stalks near the woods. His father’s job at the convenience store also didn’t pay amazing.

Jack felt awful. His family shouldn’t have to pay for his stupid accidents. Jack shouldn’t have let Max tear up his binders and textbooks. He shouldn’t have let Max snap every single pencil he owned. He shouldn’t have let Max throw his backpack and crack his water bottle open. None of this would have happened if Jack had just avoided Max. None of this would have happened if Jack hadn’t taken the goddamn bait. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t let Max shove him into the locker. If he hadn’t gotten shoved into the locker, he wouldn’t have to get stitches and his mother wouldn’t have to waste any more precious money on him.

_But accidents happen._

Jack just had a hard time seeing that.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Lei.” his mom smiled, shaking her hand. She lead Jack out of the room and into the hallway. “Oh, I can take those from you, sweetie.”

Jack gave his mother the bills, cringing at the pained expression on her face as she briefly glanced at the bottom of the paper where the total cost of the procedure was printed.

“You’re expensive, scout.” she laughed nervously, “But the important thing is that you’re ok. That’s all that matters to me.” She gave him a side hug that Jack guiltily leaned into.

Jack settled down on to one of the vacant black chairs in the waiting room of the ER. The fake leather material stuck to his bare thighs uncomfortably. He pulled his khakis farther down his legs. His mother pulled out her phone and proceeded to make a call.

“Hi, John.” She said, walking back down the hallway and around the corner, slipping away from the bustling ER lobby where Jack could only hear her faintly.

Jack pulled out his own phone in boredom.

* * *

Halfway through a game of Crossy Road, Jack saw the flashing blue and red lights and heard the piercing wail of an ambulance, and to his surprise, a firetruck.

Two medics threw open the ambulance doors and a tall woman with short, slicked-back bright orange hair stepped out. She adjusted her dark purple blazer, sauntering into the lobby. Her face was sharp. Sharp nose, sharp jawline, sharp chin, sharp eyebrows, and piercingly blue eyes. The woman made Jack uneasily wriggle in his seat.

The medics hastily unloaded a stretcher on wheels as the tall lady talked with the front desk. The individual on the stretcher didn’t seem to be a big person, and as the medics rushed the stretcher through the hospital doors, Jack noticed that it wasn’t an adult. It was a kid around his age.

The lobby looked like a chaotic scene from one of those overly dramatic ER shows that Jack’s sister liked to watch to scare his little brother. The medics switched off with two nurses who rushed the stretcher away.

As the stretcher briefly passed Jack, he turned around and got a good look at the kid. The boy’s cropped dark brown curls were singed and matted. His face was dusty and scratched up, and his deep tan skin tone was a shade too pale. The worst part, though, were his arms. They lay limply on the sides of his unconscious figure, and they were coal black.

Jack’s stomach flipped. The boy looked terrible. He felt bad for thinking that his situation was bad, realizing the harsh reality of a hospital’s inhabitants. Things could get really bad.

The tall lady followed the running nurses. For someone who probably was the one who rushed the kid to the hospital, she looked unreasonably composed and proper. Her thin lips were drawn into a smirk against her pale face. She gave Jack the chills.

As she calmly walked through the door leading to the ICU, Jack’s mother was walking back around the corner, placing her phone into her bright red knockoff leather purse. She didn’t seem to have seen the chaotic moment.

“Alrighty.” she exhaled slowly, putting her hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jack nodded and shouldered the blue Jansport backpack he’d set down on the chair next to him.

The blonde mother and her son left the hospital without muttering another word to each other.

* * *

Jack’s mom held out a twenty to the taxi driver. As she was waiting to receive change, Jack stumbled up the driveway and through the big oak front door of the big red brick house. This house was home.

It was dark out. The corn stalks waved tall and lazily in the nighttime breeze. Jack inhaled deeply as he stepped into the house, warmth instantly embracing him.

The smell of spaghetti wafted in from the kitchen, and Jack could hear the distant sound of someone setting the dining room table. The forks and knives as they clinked against each other.

Jack untied his black Nikes and threw down his bag. He heard the jingling of a collar and a big golden retriever trotted over to Jack, sniffing his feet intently, before rolling over onto his back with a satisfied grunt.

Jack smiled, which hurt, but what dog couldn’t make you smile? “Hey, Cooper.” Jack cooed, scratching the dog’s furry underside. Cooper’s fluffy tail thumped against the wood panel floor. “What’s goin’ on, baby?”

“JACK!” someone shouted from upstairs. A few moments passed, and the familiar elephant stomping sound of Jack’s brother arose from the hardwood stairs. The fifth stair creaked in exhaustion as William Morrison stomped a foot on it, continuing his lumbering descent. Will leaped the last two steps, almost falling on impact, spooking Cooper into the dining room. He moved his neon green Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles socked feet as if he were an ice skater, and slid in Jack’s direction.

Will skidded into the beige couch, breathing hard. He moseyed his way timidly over to Jack. Jack snorted as the eight-year-old tucked his hockey-cut honey blonde hair behind his small ears. Will was a whole two feet shorter than Jack’s 5’9 posture.

A teenage girl peeked her head around the corner of the hallway, frowning. Her sun-kissed face brightened as she met Jack’s eyes. She padded over to Jack.

“Hi, Claire,” Jack mumbled as Claire inspected his cut face with her baby blue eyes.

“What happened, Jack?” She questioned him, placing her hands on her lean hips. “I know something happened. You can’t fool me. I’m not mom.”

“Yeah, Jackie.” His brother chimed in, leaning closer as if he was interested. Jack knew he was only interested because Claire was. Will followed Claire’s every move. “Wha’ happened.”

Jack swallowed and met his older sister’s eyes. He winced before admitting, “I got into a fight.”

His statement was met with multiple reactions. Claire gasped and grilled him with more questions. “Who was it? What happened?” She didn’t keep her word from earlier. She sure sounded like mom right now. Will just gasped, his big brown eyes getting even bigger. He grinned, “_Ooooo_. Did ya’ win?”

“_Will_!” Claire exclaimed, glowering at Will, who was snickering behind his chubby hand. She turned back to face Jack. “What happened, Jack.”

Jack groaned internally. He was never going to get away from his sister’s suspicious glare. “A kid pushed me into a locker, nothing crazy,” Jack grumbled. He looked down at the sad state of his dark denim jeans; they were covered in dust and blood, and the left ankle had a significantly large tear at the bottom of it. “He shoved me and I cut my lip, big deal.”

Claire clicked her tongue and furrowed her dark brows, “Who?” She stated. It wasn’t in the condescending tone a question normally was, it’s tone was more put out as a statement.

Jack swallowed again, “Max.” he solemnly admitted. “Max McCampbell.”

Claire’s brows shot upward. “Really?” she said, sounding sarcastic. Jack gave her an I’m-not-lying sort of look and her gaze softened. She shook her head after a while, “Stupid upperclassmen and their asshole sized egos.” She huffed and strolled back into the dining room where she continued her chores.

Jack followed Claire with his eyes until she was long behind the dining room wall. He dropped his gaze to Will, whose mouth was wide open, displaying his missing bottom tooth. “She cussed,” Will whispered mischievously.

“Don’t repeat her, Will,” Jack warned the eight-year-old, rolling his eyes.

Will took off into the dining room, probably muttering all the cuss words he knew under his breath.

Claire peeked her head around the corner and shouted, “Jack, dad wants to talk to you!” Jack grimaced at her, and she shrugged, offering him her best smile. Jack’s sister was very attractive, and she knew it. She was catcalled on the streets sometimes, ‘Hey there, beautiful.’ was the big MVP in that catcalling district. Claire’s boyfriend, Nolan, was equally as attractive. They looked like the perfect couples you sometimes saw in one of those gossip magazines.

Claire had enrolled and gotten into Indiana University down south in Bloomington where Jack’s uncle worked as a professor. Nolan, on the other half, had gotten into Rice. Claire called him every night, asking about when he was coming to visit, and when he got time off. She missed him.

Jack wandered into the kitchen, on Claire’s request, and was met by the sight of his father stirring a large pot of spaghetti.  
“Hey, dad.” Jack greeted his father, opening the fridge. He wasn’t sure why he opened the fridge in the first place, but the cucumbers and ranch looked good to him right now. He took them, setting them down on the counter next to where his father was cooking.

Jack’s dad grunted in delayed response to Jack’s ‘hey’. He mindlessly stirred the noodles, his eyes off in space.

Jack pursed his lips as he poured some ranch into a small bowl made for holding a salad, and opened the Ziploc bag with the cucumber slices in it. Jack was nervous about what his father might tell or ask him.

“Why did you get into a fight.” His father finally asked. Jack had expected this from his dad. No, ‘Oh are you ok?’ or ‘How is your lip feeling?’ just, ‘_Why_.”

Jack explained to him what Max did to his stuff and how he’d been pushed into the locker, but his dad was not having it.

“No.” John Morrison interrupted his son mid-sentence. “_Why_ did you get into a fight in the _first place_? _Why_ did you not expect to be shoved into a locker? _Why_ did you retaliate?”

Jack was confused. What on earth did his dad mean? He didn’t say anything. He was too focused on a specific seed on a specific cucumber.

His father looked even madder. He slammed down the wooden spoon down onto the counter, hot droplets of boiling water shot out in every which way “EXPLAIN!” He shouted, making Jack jump. Not that he was surprised or anything. “EXPLAIN TO ME WHY I HAVE TO SPEND ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS ON YOUR ..._MOUTH_!” Jack’s dad’s face was boiling into a deep crimson color. He looked like a tomato. A vein stuck out of his temple, and spit speckled along his lower lip, giving him a rabid-animal vibe.

Jack’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t speak. He knew what was about to happen, and he couldn’t do anything about it. His throat started to close up as his guilt got the better of him. His eyes started to water.

“STOP CRYING, BOY!” His father spat, “EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS-” He smacked the stitched side of Jack’s face in a total rage.

Jack yelped, letting go of his pent up tears, and cried. He held his tender lip in his hands, trying to ignore the painful throbbing that coursed through his entire head. He wanted this to end already. He wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and become invisible. This happened every time his father yelled at him or hit him, which was quite often, actually.

“EXPLAIN WHY THIS COST ME ONE. THOUSAND. DOLLARS. _HUH_?!” He leaned into Jack’s hiccuping figure. “TELL ME, BOY!”

“JOHN!” Jack’s mother yelled from the doorway, ushering over to Jack, shielding him from the rabid John Morrison. Jack felt even worse. Now his parents were going to fight again, and they were going to throw things at each other, maybe even break something. Jack just wanted to get out of the immediate situation. “IT WASN’T HIS FAULT, JOHN!” She screamed at his dad.

Jack’s father’s eyes narrowed even further in frustration. He looked like an old garden gnome.

“Well, who else woulda’ done this to ‘imself then?” He threw his hand out to the side, palm up. “Oh, _I_ know; JACK!”

“A boy in his school was bullying him, for crying out loud!” His mother shouted, exasperated. “John, you know that skipping a grade can put a crap ton of stress on him! A lot of those kids in his grade pick on him for being younger than them.” She was stumbling over her words, searching for the right persuasive words to defend her son.

Will peeked his head around the kitchen door, his eyes wide. Jack’s mother shooed him off and he bounded upstairs, where he probably perched at the top step, listening. That’s all any of the kids could do when their parents fought. All three of them would huddle together at the top, sometimes one of them would let out a choked sob, shushed by another.

“Figure yourself out, boy.” Jack’s father grumbled under his breath, his voice was hoarse from screaming.

Jack’s mom lead him out of the kitchen and into the living room. Jack parted ways from his anxiety-stricken mother, and shuffled up the stairs, ignoring her calls to come back down. He didn’t want to talk right now. Jack wiped his puffy eyes and trudged down the hallway and into his carpeted room.

Clothes were strewn everywhere, empty candy wrappers and Jack’s black Mizuno baseball cleats lie lazily in the corner behind the door. One of the many Indiana Hoosiers posters on his wall above his bed was hanging limply, only attached by a measly piece of Scotch tape. It was just waiting for a gust of wind to blow it off its perch. Jack’s windows were too rusted for that anyway. His sigh came in short bursts, his throat was still closed.

Jack flopped face-first into his pillow and lay there, contemplating. His lip throbbed violently with every beat of his heart, but Jack didn’t care. Nothing mattered at this point. He let out a choked sob, demanding himself to stop being such a baby, but his lip kept its consistent trembling, and vigilante tears slipped past Jack’s senses unwillingly. He squeezed his fists tight, his fingernails digging into the tender skin of his palms.

In only a few seconds he was up off his bed, all the way across the room with his fist a few inches deep into the wall.

Jack had dented the wall in anguish. The force from the impact sent a weird sensation crawling up his arm and down his spine. He shivered, realizing what he’d done. He lowered his fist from the wall and sucked in another shaky breath. He was just like his father now. No control over his emotions. No control over his body.

He had so much work to do. He now had to fix the friggen wall, he had to fix up his binder, buy new pencils, rewrite the entirety of his history notes (which Max had gracefully ripped apart), buy a new water bottle… oh, and he had homework due the next day. Jack’s head burned with the weight of everything.

This time around, Jack fell back into bed and curled up into a ball. He stayed like this until he fell asleep, tear-streaked cheeks and everything. He ignored all the worried calls from his mother and Claire, especially his father. He ignored the nagging pain of his tender lip. He ignored the fact that he didn’t change out of his dirt and blood-stained clothes.

Jack didn’t notice when his mother came into his room to stroke his hair and tell him that everything would be okay and that everything would figure itself out. He didn’t notice when a note was placed in the mailbox in the front with Morrison in messy handwriting scrawled on the side of it. He just dreamed of the boy in the hospital. And a place.

A dark, _dark_ place.

* * *


	2. Dear, Jack

Dorms. His savior.

No more progressively horrid lab tests. No more random acute injuries that required a hospital visit, like yesterday’s. And two days before that.

His guardian angel was a cramped, grime filled high school dormitory.

Gabriel smiled slightly, feeling the left corner of his mouth slowly snake up his cheek. His breath condensed in front of him in cloud-like puffs. It was ridiculously cold out. -10 degrees to be exact. He gripped the slip of paper he’d picked up from his teacher today. He’d missed school the previous day, so he had gotten the news a day later.

It felt like knives were digging into his bandaged arms, but it wasn’t bothering him. Gabriel had a savage level of pain tolerance. He’d been dealt with worse.

He flipped his backpack off one shoulder and crumpled the dorm pamphlet into the mesh side pocket meant for water bottles.

Then his foot caught a crack in the sidewalk, thrusting Gabriel forward onto the concrete. He was forced to catch his fall with his injured hands. They smashed into the ground with an unsatisfying creak, like an old door.

Gabriel rolled onto his back, flinging off his backpack which was digging into his shoulder. He lay there awkwardly, the cold air stinging his watering dry eyes. He held his arms up to his chest, emotionlessly.

_Damn it, Gabriel._

Gabriel squinted blankly up at the cloudy grey sky, the dark halos of pine trees rimming his vision. Tears slipped down his dry cheeks. He wasn’t crying, his eyes were just dry. A harsh gust of wind engulfed him, making his curly hair fly upward clumsily.

Using his elbows, avoiding the usage of his now throbbing forearms, he pushed himself away from the sharp, grainy sidewalk. He timidly shook the small pebbles that lodged themselves into his stiff bandages.

Gabriel’s fingers shook violently as he lifted his now 10 Ton backpack off its frosted grass perch. Since the weight of the backpack sent bolts of pain shooting through his hand, he dropped the pack.

Grumbling, Gabriel slid his backpack slowly along the sidewalk with his foot. At some point along his walk home, he finally managed to painfully pick the thing up and sling it over his aching shoulders.

When he reached the front gate of the establishment he lived in, he kicked open the gate and mockingly yelled, “Honey, I’m home!”

The large front doors swung wide open, and out stepped Gabriel’s 6 foot ‘parental figure.’

“What’s up, toothpick,” Gabriel muttered distastefully under his breath.

“Welcome back, Gabriel.” The tall ginger smirked, her hands folded neatly in front of her “I do hope you’ve had a pleasant day at school.”

_Sure you do_. He thought as he shoved past her into the main hall, and up the grand white marble staircase. He didn’t bother to wipe his boots before entering, which always bothered Moira. Compared to the regal form of Moira and the mansion, Gabriel looked like a hobo, with his baggy black ripped jeans, oversized black hoodie, and black beanie tucked into his belt.

“Now, now, Gabriel,” Moira threw over her shoulder, “We don’t have to act like this.” Her serene voice echoed through the vast main hall.

Gabriel ignored her, keeping his pace up the staircase, stomping his boots hard on the shiny white marble steps, knocking dirt off the soles and onto the steps.

When he reached the landing, he flung his school bag off one shoulder and turned around to face Moira. She glared up at his trail of dirt, pebbles and loose blades of grass. Her thin lips were pressed into a thin line.

Gabriel turned back, walking down the hall. He grinned, feeling the scar across his nose crinkle up. The scar used to be alien to him, but now it was like it was never there.

As he dragged his backpack down the hall he heard Moira mutter, “Go get yourself hooked up.” And her flats carrying her into another room. Moira was most likely mad. She despised dirt.

And that was precisely what Gabriel was to her. Dirt.

He trudged the rest of the way to his ‘bedroom’, the stiff smirk plastered on his face. His ‘bedroom’ was actually a laboratory with a hospital bed, but Gabriel liked to feel normal.

Gabriel kicked off his boots and began his evening routine. He started it by battling and fighting the sticky drawer in a filing cabinet in the corner. That cabinet held his IV lines hostage.

He wrenched it open with a heaving tug, the cabinet screeching unattractively in exasperation. Gabriel sorted through all the different packets and selected a clear filled one. Plot twist, they were all filled with the same good old 9% Normal Saline.

He wheeled over the IV stand to a chair in the same corner as the cabinet and wiped the line down with a sanitary wipe before connecting the packet to the tube. He slowly and painfully injected the thin needle into his tan skin, sighing as he was cleared of the throbbing pain and dehydration almost immediately. Truth be told, the line didn’t just have NS in it. It had what Gabriel liked to call “Moira Juice” swirled into the mix.

This “Moira Juice” would be lethal to anyone who was dumb enough or unlucky enough for it to enter their bloodstream. This stuff was savage. The only people it didn’t affect were Gabriel and Moira herself. They weren’t the only ones who’d used it, though. Gabriel was the only one who’d lasted this long. Moira and Gabriel didn’t rely on the stuff, but it was useful to keep them in good condition, regarding their paranormal… _abilities_. He’d been immunized to it since 10 years old and counting.

What it did was drain him of all oxygen and then force him to replenish that supply. It was called ‘resetting’. Gabriel and Moira did not need that much oxygen to survive. For 10 hours at least. It helped clean out the corrupted oxygen that flooded his system. A side effect. If he kept pumping the stuff through his system, he would eventually lose touch with reality and sink into a deep coma or even death.

Gabriel got through half the drip before a loud crash erupted, sourcing from the downstairs hall. The lights flickered off, and not even a millisecond later, the red emergency lights flickered on.

Gabriel froze, his heart pounding. He ripped the IV line from his arm, blood dripping from the inside of his elbow. Immediately his head spun and his heart lurched with adrenaline. _This could be his chance._

He snatched up his backpack and silently shot down the hall, clumsily pulling on a pair of sneakers he’d found in the wooden shoe cubbies across the hall from his room. The mansion was dead silent except for Gabriel’s heart beating in his chest, and his ragged breathing. He skidded to a stop above the top stair and controlled his breathing at a slow pace. He shut his eyes closed and focused.

A cold presence washed over his body as thin tendrils of smoke exploded out from below his feet. They speedily slithered their way down the stairs. Gabriel shot his conscience out to the tips of the smoke tendrils and a lazy black and white image flooded his mind. The image was that of one of the many identical lower level laboratories. Gabriel couldn’t tell which one it was, but that wasn’t the main focus. Moira was standing in the middle of the room, her hands out in front of her. A deep purple substance was shooting out of a gadget attached to one hand. Her thin fingers were tinted purple, and her face was focused, a mean grin spread wildly across her ghostlike complexion.

A metal wire shelf lay on the floor behind her, viles and graduated beakers lay shattered on the linoleum floor which explained the loud noise. Moira did not notice the dark substance swirling under the doorframe.

Gabriel hastily called back his power, gagging as it merged with his physical body. He rushed down the stairs, not caring about all the noise he was making. His sneakers squeaked as he launched himself across the main hall. He could hear Moira’s flats slapping against the tile as she raced down the hall toward him. She knew what Gabriel was doing.

Gabriel, expanding his power again, swiftly grabbed hold of a large metal wire shelf and threw it down the hallway entrance Moira was going to exit through. It released a loud cacophony of noises as textbooks and bottles crashed to the floor.

He didn’t turn back as he threw the front doors open and stumble-sprinted down the driveway and into the street. He knew that Moira wasn’t going to give up until she caught him. Exhausted, he extended his mind one last, gruesome time and popped the two right tires on her Lincoln Continental.

The rectangular beige and brown striped car sank down to its right side with a wheezing sound and settled. Gabriel caught one last glimpse of Moira’s traffic cone colored hair and took off into the street.

He was met with glaring headlights and chorus of honking. He kept running, dodging out of the swerving paths of speeding cars until he crashed through bushes and crumpled to the muddy ground.

Gabriel wiped his nose, which was bleeding ferociously, due to the amount of energy his ability took out of him. His head felt as light as a balloon, and his eyes refused to focus on anything he would look at. He felt amazing, though. He smiled, breathing hard into the musky wood scent of the area. After multiple sleepless nights of unnecessary planning and procrastination, he’d successfully run away. And Moira didn’t even lay a bony hand on him.

* * *

Gabriel shivered. He didn’t want to have to endure the frigid winter temperatures of small-town, Indiana. Especially at dusk. But he also didn’t want to be stuck in that god-awful establishment he’d been forced to call ‘home’ for the past years.

He hated even thinking about it. Strange emotional combinations met his mind every time he thought about the past, and of Moira’s aristocratic ruling of the household. _No. Not household._ Menage_. There’s a 10 dollar word._

To be truthful, Gabriel couldn’t quite place his feelings towards Moira in a specific category. He was pretty ambivalent towards her standing over him. He was 15 for god’s sake. He was probably more independent than most highschoolers. Definitely not mentally mature, but that didn’t matter.

This was part of the reason Gabriel was running away. To where? He didn’t have a single clue. He just wanted to get away for now.

He stumbled after cornfield after cornfield after cornfield after goddamn cornfield. That’s all southern Indiana was. Redneck corn farmers, and a secret laboratory in the middle of it. _Nothing to see here, folks_.

Gabriel’s knees kept giving out on him halfway through a significantly larger cornfield. His feet were cold and wet, and it didn’t help that he’d just stepped right through a pile of ‘fertilizer’. And the fertilizer they sometimes use down here is straight-up cow shit.

His nose wrinkled up in disgust. Gabriel danced out of the pile and kicked off his worn-out black Nike’s, chucking them into the field. He instantly regretted it as his feet numbed under his weight.

_Merry Christmas, farmer Bill. Have my soiled Nike’s._

As he continued his late-night trek through the cornfield wilderness, his teeth began chattering and his feet grew progressively numb and dirty within a few minutes. His whole body was shivering beneath his coat as delicate snowflakes began their descent over the deep blue basked landscape.

Gabriel checked his watch.

8:37.

He’d been walking for over two hours. _Good enough progress. Time to hit the hay_. He still had school tomorrow, and they’d surely call Moira if he showed up wearing a soaked jacket and no shoes. He thought about not returning to school but vetoed that option. Better to blend in than to be stuck in the cold.

Eventually, Gabriel came across an old, rusted tool shed. He tried the doors, which easily swung open with an ugly creak. It was unlocked. Gabriel spun around, making sure that no one heard him and started towards the shed, but all he could bring to his ears was the swaying of corn stalks in the night wind.

He shrugged to himself. _I don’t know where else to go at this point._ He thought as he stepped into the surprisingly warm shed. The wood creaked underneath him, but that wasn’t the source of his worry. He was worried about someone discovering him and calling the police.

He scanned the back wall of the shack and spotted a pair of Timberland boots. He threw them on and slowly laced up the boots. They fit almost like a sock. Unpredictably perfectly.

Suddenly a voice behind him yelled out in surprise, causing Gabriel to spin himself around and freeze in the doorway of the shed.

A kid about his age lay sprawled out on the snowy ground, a rake and a bag of spilled leaves clutched in each of his hands. He scrambled to a standing position. “What the hell, man!” The kid yelled, his voice cracking. His lips were a deep purple color from the cold, and his bright blonde hair was dusted with snow. His face flushed a bright crimson color and he averted his eyes from Gabriel’s. _Huh._

Gabriel remained silent. Nothing his mind told him to spit out would be relatively helpful in this awkward situation. He swallowed the bile in his throat and tucked his greyish-blue hands under his armpits.

The white kid just stood in the beating snow, his bright blue eyes flashed so many emotions but none at all. It confused Gabriel.

He cleared his throat, “What are you doing here? Trying to give me a friggen heart attack or something?” The kid laughed nervously and stepped towards Gabriel.

“It was an attempt.” Gabriel reluctantly spoke.

The kid laughed as Gabriel tripped on his way out of the shed. _Really like falling down, don’t you._

The kid caught him, laughing, his laugh rattled in his chest and through Gabriel’s ears. He let go of Gabriel’s shoulders and slapped him on the back. “Yo, how ‘bout telling me why you were in my tool shed, neh? After we get you inside where there’s an actual heater, of course.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Gabriel repeated, mumbling. His heart was jumping all around his chest. It was the weirdest feeling, and Gabriel couldn’t quite put it into words.

The kid smiled at him and slapped his shoulder again. Gabriel didn’t consider himself to be short, but the kid seemed to stand a full two inches over him. Even with Moira towering over him at 6’1”.

“Can you walk, or do you need a ride?” the blonde kid asked.

Gabriel glanced down at his wimpy soaked socks and dirt-covered jeans. His feet hurt like hell, and his legs were banging together as he shivered. “Nah I can walk.”

“Ok then.” The kid hesitantly said, giving Gabriel a worried glance, his dark eyebrows furrowed together. “I’m Jack, by the way.” Jack held out his thin hand.

Gabriel took it, shaking it. “Gabriel.” Jack’s hands were warm. Gabriel savored the momentary relief from the cold.

Jack only smiled and nodded his head. “My mom’ll figure something out for ya, Gabriel.” He started walking away, and turned back to Gabriel, signaling for him to follow. Gabriel took off after Jack and caught up to him until they were walking side by side. Gabriel couldn’t understand why this random kid was taking him in. Jack knew close to nothing about him, but still, he hadn’t hesitated offering to take him in for the night. Gabriel appreciated this, somehow.

Gabriel met Jack’s face. He never quite took in what he looked like. Even in the dim lighting, he could make out his delicate features. Jack’s bright blonde hair was spiked up neatly in the front and his eyebrows were significantly darker than his hair. He had a thin, sharp jawline. Freckles danced across his flushed cheeks and a recently stitched up scar ran across his lip.

Jack had a timid aura to him. He walked as if he were on edge. Waiting for something to scare him. Gabriel took notice that, even in the freezing cold, Jack managed to pull off a dark blue t-shirt and black cargo pants. Jack was a lean, but broad figure.

He seemed like an interesting person. A _pretty_, interesting person.

“Hello? Earth to Gabriel.” Jack waved his hand in front of Gabriel’s face.

Gabriel blinked, muttering a quick apology.

Jack giggled. “Soup or spaghetti?”

“Soup, I guess.”

“Sorry, we don’t have the most food in the world right now.” Jack’s smile flickered a little.

Gabriel nodded as the two climbed up the front driveway and into the house. _He could tell something was up._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack’s mother was all Gabriel could wish for in a mom, and more. She seemed kind, gentle, and very protective. She listened and gave intelligent and helpful advice. Gabriel liked Becky Morrison. He liked her a lot.

“Gabriel, sweetie. Would you like to sleep in Jack’s room? I know Jack has an extra sleeping bag and a blow-up mattress. Or I can give you Will’s room and he can sleep with me. He won’t mind.” She smiled at him. Her smile was exactly like Jack’s; wide and contagious. She placed two steaming bowls of tomato soup in front of the two boys. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable, hon.

“I’ll stay with Jack.” Gabriel nodded, taking a slice of bread from a woven metal basket in the center of the table.

Jack took three slices and crumpled them up into his soup. Gabriel found himself smiling at his bowl. He gulped down a hot spoonful of the savory soup.

Jack’s mom rolled her dark blue eyes at her son and walked away, grinning at the two.

The comfy atmosphere of this house sent Gabriel’s mind spiraling. This was a normal household. Plastic cups and Star Wars themed soup bowls; not feeding tubes and IV lines.

Jack practically inhaled his soup and bread bits and left to put his dishes in the sink. At least that’s what he told Gabriel.

Gabriel followed suit, shoveling the remainder of his soup down before going with Jack to the kitchen.

A man, presumably Jack’s father was in the kitchen preparing to take out the trash. Gabriel was startled when the man looked at him. He looked almost exactly like Jack, just an older version. Jack’s face was a bit rounder and softer than his father’s jagged and sharp one, but there was a definite resemblance between the two.

Jack did not even look at his father as he hastily placed his dishes into the sink and speed-walked out. Gabriel followed in equal pace, catching a confused and angry glance of Jack’s father. Gabriel noticed the distance between father and son. Something had happened.

Jack lead Gabriel upstairs and into his room.

It was a nice room; not clean at all, but homey. There was no bitter stench of rubbing alcohol and hospital equipment, only the smell of grass stains and sweaty sports equipment. _The common smell of a 14-year-old boy._

Jack silently pulled out a bright red and black sleeping bag from a shelf in his closet. Jack unrolled it onto the carpet at the foot of his bed frame, his nimble fingers working at the zipper which seemed to not be cooperating with him.

“There you go.” he muttered, finally managing to work the zipper down its line. Jack smoothed out the wrinkles and hopped up to the bathroom across the hall.

Gabriel sat awkwardly on a navy blue bean bag across the room, his legs crossed over each other. He realized that he didn’t have any other clothes. He hadn’t brought anything other than his school backpack. He cursed under his breath and fiddled with his damp socks.

Jack padded back from the bathroom, his cargo pants tucked under his armpit. He was only wearing his black boxers and a maroon tank top with a faded Hoosiers written across it. He looked Gabriel up and down and slid the closet door open. He ruffled around, eventually revealing a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts for Gabriel. He tossed the clothes to him and plopped down on his bed, staring expectantly.

Gabriel nodded his thanks and left to change in the bathroom. He locked the door and ran a hand through his curly hair. He pulled his jacket and shirt off, and stared at his arms in the mirror. They looked much better, other than the array of random scars pattering them. He clenched and unclenched his fists, releasing small tufts of smoke from the tips of his fingers, and a dribble of blood from his nose. That was the only known side effect, other than rapid fatigue. Gabriel sighed, wiping his nose.

Turns out that Jack and Gabriel were the same size in clothing, so Gabriel fit right into the worn-out LA Dodgers shirt Jack had lent him. The shirt smelled of laundry detergent and lightly of sweet corn. _An unusual combination, but he supposed not unusually Jack_.

Gabriel rubbed his face as he noticed it heating up.

_Stop. Cut it out._

* * *

The two had finally settled in for the night after Jack had offered to switch sleeping arrangements about a couple hundred times. Each time Gabriel had denied him and laughed at Jack’s immediate selflessness towards a boy he found in his cornfield. Jack was left grinning, confused every time.

Gabriel shut his eyes and flipped on his side to face Jack’s bed. Jack’s head popped up for a second and he glanced at Gabriel, eyes wide.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened to your arms?” Jack whispered.

Gabriel tossed this question back and forth around his mind. Jack probably deserved to know more about him, as he had just taken him into his home, no questions asked. But this was one thing he didn’t want to let go of lightly.

“Can I trust that you won’t tell anyone?” Gabriel muttered, lifting his head up to rest on the palm of his hand.

Jack nodded and smiled. “Of course, yes. I’d call you an acquaintance.”

Gabriel laughed sharply. “Me too. Are you familiar with the O’Deorain laboratories?”

“Yeah..” Jack replied.

“I ran away from there.” Gabriel sucked in a breath. The only reaction he expected out of Jack was recoil. He half expected Jack to leap up and call the police. The O’Deorain laboratories were famous for their constant encounters with law enforcement.

Jack was silent. Gabriel shifted in his sleeping bag. _There is no going back from this one, Gabriel. You really know how to fuck things u-_

“Oh,” Jack whispered. “Alright. Was it… _okay_ there? The laboratories I mean. Well, probably _not_ since I found you in my shed all shivering and cold and your arms were like… _gray_ and- ugh, I’m sorry I even brought this up to you in the first place-”

“Nah it was fine. I am probably making a huge deal out of a crumb of a problem, but an experiment _did_ go wrong, and that’s why my arms are like this.” Gabriel rolled his eyes at Jack’s spontaneity. It was, even though he hated to admit it, kind of cute.

“Ah. Okay.” Jack replied, awkwardly laying back down. “Well, it’s like 12 am now, and we should probably sleep soon.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel whispered.

There was a long pause as the boys got settled into their comfortable positions. Gabriel rubbed his eyes and shut them slowly. He instinctively strained his ears for the sound of police sirens. Moira had probably called the cops at this point.

“G’night, Gabe.” Jack mumbled, half asleep. Gabriel grunted in response.

_Gabe._

He hadn’t been referred to as Gabe since his last foster home he’d regrettably ran away from. His eyes watered as he felt the heavy and alien pang of emotion in his chest. He tried the nickname out with his own voice, barely whispering it. His throat closed up as he thought of his position. He was pretty much homeless, other than Jack and his family. He thought about letting loose, but that would feel foreign to him, too. He never cried, and it was going to stay that way.

But the wave of grief just drowned him, forcing more tears into his eyes, his throat threatening a sob. He missed this silence. He missed normal. He didn’t want to leave this house. He didn’t want to return to the high school on Monday and find Moira waiting for him there. But he felt he needed to leave. Jack made him feel weird. It wasn't an _unpleasant_ feeling but it wasn’t pleasant either.

_Crying is weak_. He shoved into his mind. _Crying is weak_.

As much as he tried to keep his watering eyes from spilling, he found that a few tears had slipped past his senses and were trailing down his cheeks. His chin trembled and his shoulders shook. Gabriel flipped onto his back and glared at the ceiling until no emotions remained. Crying is weak. Jack sighed in his sleep whispering some nonsensical yet gentle phrase. He caught the only word which lulled him into his long attempted slumber.

Gabe.

—————————————————————————————————————

“Hey, Gabriel?” Jack mumbled hoarsely into his flannel quilt. There was a sound of him sniffing — he sounded ridiculously congested.

Gabriel stayed quiet, taking a long breath in and tucking his puffy eyes further into the crook of his arm. His body was sore from the previous day.

Jack sighed after a while and hopped off his bed, wobbling as he pulled on a pair of gym shorts. He took a hard look in Gabriel’s direction and Gabriel snapped his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Jack left the room, taking the incorrect impression that Gabriel was still asleep.

Gabriel let out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding and sat up, the sleeping back rolling down his knees. He stared expectantly at the door, waiting for Jack to re-enter the room, but he never did. Gabriel cleared his scratchy throat and reluctantly stood up, the floorboards under the carpet creaking with the sudden weight shift. His head spun, and black splotches rimmed his vision. Gabriel groaned and stumbled into the hallway and down the stairs, following the smell of bacon and eggs.

Jack’s flushed, puffy freckled face and sparkling baby blue eyes met him at the foot of the stairs. Gabriel blinked, and Jack’s soft lips curled up into a small smile. “G’Morning Gabriel.” Jack greeted him, patting his head. “You’ve got quite the bed head there.” Jack laughed as Gabriel reached up to flatten the intricately tangled and knotted curls his head blessed him with. His face heated up and he tugged at the collar of his -- no, _Jack’s_ t-shirt.

_He needed to leave._

Gabriel decided he hated Jack. He just hated how Jack didn’t have to be ordered to act on his own behalf. He hated how perfectly messy his blonde hair was when he woke up. He hated how Jack’s freckles were settled just along the bridge of his nose, trailing and eventually fading into his soft cheeks. He hated how Jack had a normal-person bedroom and didn’t have to wake up every morning and remember to change his IV line. He just hated how perfect Jack’s whole act was. He hated how weird Jack made him feel. He didn’t like it. But at the same time— no point in contemplation. _Stupid golden boy._

Gabriel huffed and continued edging down the stairs, not glancing at Jack. Jack trailed after him like a lost puppy. “So do you want anything for breakfast? My mom made-”

“I’m not hungry,” Gabriel interrupted Jack who followed him into the living room where Gabriel plopped down and tugged on the pair of boots he found in the shed. Jack’s eyebrows drew together, as he squatted down next to him.

“Are you --” Jack hesitantly drew out the question, sticking his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts.

Gabriel nodded and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He turned the faded golden doorknob and swung the door open, pausing at the top of the balcony’s steps.

“Ah. Okay.” Jack timorously mumbled, handing Gabriel a $20. “Here you go. I don’t know if you need this, but… it’s all the money I’ve got stored up, and it should be enough— ah.” Jack rubbed his shoulders and looked down at his feet. Gabriel slowly took the money. The two stood on the front porch for an awkwardly long time, staring at each other's shoes, until Claire, Jack’s older sister silently appeared at the door behind Jack.

“Is he leaving?” She asked Jack, her eyes locking onto Gabriel’s, expectantly. She crossed her arms over her beige knit sweater and leaned against the door frame beside Jack. Jack’s forehead twitched with emotions, but he didn’t look up from his feet. “Are you leaving?”

“Well -- I -- uh…” Gabriel stuttered, extending his hand with the money Jack gave him out to Claire, who snatched it up and re-crossed her arms. Gabriel swallowed the bile in his closing throat and glared at Jack’s socks. “No -- actually. No.”

Jack’s mouth twitched and his shoulders sank in relief. Gabriel trudged back into the house, not making eye contact with either Jack or his sister. You hate Jack, remember? But something was blocking that feeling. A stone stopping a flood. And that stone was keeping Gabriel from hating this blonde, blue-eyed pretty farm boy. That only made him more uneasy.

“It really isn’t a big deal, Gabriel.” Jack nervously spat out tearing his shaking hands through his golden hair, “If you need to leave, then leave. It shouldn’t be our business. Just — know that you’re welcome to come back here…” Gabriel turned to face Jack’s stiffly restricted expression.

“Yeah, thanks.” was all Gabriel could think of saying. “I — don’t really have anywhere to go.”

Jack’s eyes lit up for a split second before the pained expression graced his soft face once again. Claire smiled sympathetically towards Gabriel as she walked back into the kitchen, holding her arms close to her chest. Jack cleared his throat. “So do you want to eat breakfast… or. I mean it’s the weekend, so we can go outside or I can-“

“Sure.” Gabriel interrupted Jack and followed Claire into the kitchen where the smell of pancakes and bacon and nostalgia hit him like a brick wall, almost bringing tears to his eyes. _Almost._

Jack’s brother was already at his seat in the cramped dining room, his small feet swinging a solid foot above the rug. His eyes lit up when the three teens walked into the room and took their seats as Jack’s mother effortlessly slid three loaded plates onto the table in front of them. They thanked her silently before digging in.

“So what do you guys wanna do today?” Claire asked inquisitively between bites of pancake.

Jack swallowed hard and thumped his chest a few times before coughing out, “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

“Don’t die choking, Jack. You're _tooooo_ young” Will said matter-of-factly, his mouth full of scrambled eggs. Claire snorted and shoved Jack gently. Jack’s shoulder brushed Gabriel’s sending an unfamiliar shiver of electricity up his arm, raising the hairs on his forearms and sparking his cheeks.

_You hate him, remember?_

“OH!” Jack yelled out, pointing his fork at Claire. “You should take us to the highschool dorms. Have you seen them yet Gabriel?”

“Uh… yeah. I think so.” Gabriel muttered, flicking a sausage into a puddle of maple syrup with his fork.

“You got the letter thing they gave us yeah?” Jack asked him. “Have you got a roommate yet?”

“Oh.. uh.. no- no I don’t.” Gabriel replied staring at the wood framed glass china case in the corner of the room.

“Oh good. I don’t either. I thought everyone had their roommates picked out already.”

“Don’t pester him with all these questions, Jack.” Claire laughed, walking out of the dining room with their empty plates. “Let’s go now if you want to see them.”

“Alright!” Jack said cheerfully, hopping up and sprinting up the stairs. “I need to get changed first, though. C’mon Gabriel!”

—————————————————————

The wheat-colored scenery whizzed part as the old, scratched up Ford pickup truck sped along the dirt road and into town. Jack’s sister shifted gears as they slowly entered downtown Bloomington.

Jack held the dorm request papers in his hands as he stared at the letter that all the students at Herron Highschool got. Gabriel sat next to the blonde boy in the back seats of the truck. They left Will after his protests to stay at home became too much for Claire.

Gabriel read Jack’s letter out of his peripheral vision;

** _Dear “Jack” F. Morrison,_ **

_We are excited to inform you that Herron Highschool will be introducing new, completely free of charge, dormitory rooms onto the campus. If you wish to live on campus, you are required to stay in one of our 1000, fully furnished, dormitory rooms, and you will be given a roommate of the same gender. There are a set of rules you and your new roommate are required to follow to get the best out of this experience. (See Pg.2 of the Dorm Life packet your advisory teacher gave you.) Like a normal house, we have a dining hall and laundromats in each of the 10 facilities._   
_You may request a roommate, as we understand some students don’t mix well with each other. If you wish to request a roommate, each person must tear out and hand in the form in your packet to the front office by January 5th._   
_We hope to see you soon!_

** _Administrative Director:_ **   
** _Principal A. Setwerts_ **

Gabriel desperately wanted to move into a dorm, but he didn’t know if he could handle a roommate. _Unless-_

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Jack said, noticing Gabriel’s eyes wandering around his letter. Jack shifted to face Gabriel, the leather seats squeaking under him.

Was he-

“Do you want to get fro-yo after we walk around for a while?” Oh. “I know a really good place.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, J-Boy.” Claire agreed from the front seat, her head turned toward the boys, but her eyes still focused on the road ahead of them. “Ya up for some of that stuff, Gabriel?”

“I’ve never had fro-yo— or whatever that is,” Gabriel replied, resting his elbow on the windowsill and mushing his hand into his cheek as he stared outside.

“WHAT?!” Jack yelled, causing Claire to curse and lightly swerve the truck, and Gabriel to jump. His outburst was followed by a small “Sorry” and a totally not-sorry smirk as Claire glared at Jack in the rearview mirror.

“Well, you should try some of it anyways.” Jack smiled at Gabriel, folding his letter.

Gabriel nodded and turned back to stare out the window. _This was going to be a long day._

* * *

Claire pushed plastic spoons into the boys’ yogurt cups and went to sit down next to an unfamiliar brunette girl sitting at another table. Gabriel sat stiffly shoulder-to-shoulder with Jack on a concrete bench.

“And _why_ are we getting frozen yogurt in the winter, you may ask?” Jack randomly said leaning closer to Gabriel’s face as if he was expecting an answer. Gabriel leaned back slightly and looked quickly away. “Well, that’s an answer for another time. I sure don’t know.”

“Weren’t you the one who suggested it?” Gabriel deadpanned.

Jack shrugged, smirking. He laughed into a spoonful of his strawberry yogurt. Gabriel found it hard not to look at Jack’s flushed cheeks. _What sort of emotional psych trick was Jack using on him? And why was it just Jack?_

Gabriel then decided his fate. Moira or a dorm? Yeah. _Not_ Moira. “Do you want to be dorm roommates?” Gabriel mumbled not making eye contact.

Jack’s face went scarlet as he touched his pocket where the letter was. “Oh. Yeah, why not? We know each other better than I know anyone at the school.” Jack was silent after that remark.

Gabriel felt lighter after asking, and he couldn’t quite place why. He squinted as a light wind whipped the tree branches sending rays of bright sunlight onto the sidewalk and his face. The soft, warm rays danced across his cheeks, contrasting the freezing winds. Jack’s knee bounced up and down in a steady rhythm as goosebumps prickled his pale arms.

“_How_ are you wearin’ shorts out here?” a voice stated from behind the two boys. A tan, lean built kid who looked about their ages stood with his hands on his hips. He had a slight southern twinge to his voice. He smirked in recognition at Gabriel, his lopsided grin flashing a dimple on his left cheek. “Hey! ‘Yer that kid who punched old Mrs. Brown’s substitute, ain’t ya?”

Gabriel shrugged, admitting his crime he ‘committed’ almost a year ago. “She deserved it.”

Jack’s confused face was enough for Gabriel to let out a snort. Jack laughed nervously back. “You punched a sub?” He asked, his eyes widening.

“Yeeeep. That’s our man right here.” The tall kid drawled. “Didn’t know you two hung out.”

“We don’t,” Gabriel growled.

“Well, not until yesterday,” Jack interjected, regret coating his words as he glanced momentarily at Gabriel. “What are you doing here, Jesse?” Jack changed the subject, gesturing toward the tall kid’s empty gloved hands. “You didn’t even buy anything.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow at Jack before going along with the sudden shift in mood. “Did too. It’s just takin’ a little while.” He adjusted his red and yellow patterned scarf and mussed up his cedar colored hockey-cut hair. He sniffed as his number was called and skipped over to the yogurt stand.

“See y’all on Monday!” Jesse waved vigorously from the stand as he jogged off with two other boys, one of which he linked arms with as the other let out a loud groan.

Jack chuckled and rolled his eyes as the three boys walked away. “What the hell was that.”

They walked over to the trash can and Jack suddenly gripped onto Gabriel’s wrist with surprising strength. He dragged him to behind a large blue trash dump and peeked his head out from the side. Gabriel started to retaliate until Jack slapped his other hand over his mouth, silencing him.

Gabriel ripped Jack’s hand off his face and mouthed, ‘_what_’. Jack’s eyes were wide, and his breath inconsistent, his face flushing again. “Quick; what does Moira O’Deorain look like?”

Gabriel’s heart dropped into his stomach. _Shit_.

“Well… she -- she’s really tall, for one.” Gabriel started, as Jack swung his head back around the side of the dumpster, nodding.

“And?”

“She -- uh. Has bright red hair, she’s really thin…” He couldn’t think, his brain was scrambling with thoughts.

“Fuck.” Jack cussed under his breath. “Sorry.”

“Why? What?” Gabriel hissed, causing Jack to let go of his wrist. Gabriel grabbed Jack’s hand. “What is it?”

Jack turned to face Gabriel. Jack’s baby blue eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and his face was ghost white. There wasn’t even a dash of flush.

“I think she’s talking to Claire.”

* * *


End file.
